


Just Stop Your Crying (It's a Sign of the Times)

by larryandgaystuff (cnd8544)



Category: One Direction
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 06:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12551692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnd8544/pseuds/larryandgaystuff
Summary: My own imagining of the inspiration for Sign of the Times.  Featuring boys in love, even after all this time.Massive thanks, as always, to my betas and personal cheerleaders, Meg and Cris.  I love you girls endlessly. <3





	Just Stop Your Crying (It's a Sign of the Times)

It is nearly midnight, and Louis is sitting on a plane, counting the seconds it takes for it to lift off the ground and bring him home. He’s ached for home from the moment he woke alone in a cold, unfamiliar hotel room this morning. His eyes had opened slowly, tentatively, as if his tired body could sense for him, in his half-sleep, that he didn’t really want to confirm what the cold, untouched skin of his back was so cruelly suggesting.

Waking without Harry always hurts, the dull ache of it like a bruise spreading over his heart. But the pain was even more agonising this time, the bright white walls of the hotel room burning his retinas, reminding him of a hospital or worse, the bed too big and empty around his curled up form without a sweet, gangly boy to take up most of it.

The panic and discomfort that always comes with having to somehow fall asleep without his favorite boy’s back pressed against his chest, his long legs slotted in between Louis’ own, his shower-damp hair leaving the scent of wildflowers on their shared pillow, had forced him to strip to his briefs and lower the air conditioning to a temperature that had him shivering by morning. Tears had built up behind his eyelids as he pulled the perfectly fluffed duvet tighter around his shoulders and hid his face in the pillow that smelled nothing like wildflowers, nothing like home.

Louis knows his contract, the things he is required to do, the reason he wasn’t in Harry’s arms when he awoke. But getting used to the pain doesn’t make it hurt any less. And it’s one of those days when he isn’t sure he can stand it any longer.

Bundled up in a hoodie entirely too big for his small frame because it isn’t technically his, waiting for the plane to take him back to his home, the only person who has ever been his home, he lets his mind wander to anything but the nightmare of his day of lying, of pretending, of holding the hand of someone he will never love.

He replays the brief but healing conversation he had with Harry over the phone, with what felt like millions of miles between them but is only about five thousand. He thinks of his family who he’ll get to hug in just a few days now. He imagines Harry lounging in their living room with their dog Clifford sprawled on top of him lazily.

Allowing the soft sounds of the songs they’ve written over the years just for each other, which Harry recorded in their home studio as an anniversary gift, wash over him, he drifts into a dream. Not quite asleep, but unaware of the passing time, the traveled distance, he rests for the first time since he stepped out of Harry’s warm embrace a week ago.

The next time Louis wakes, it’s to the voice of a young woman he only met the day before. She seems nice enough, but Louis decided long ago that his trust has to be earned. She places her hand gently on his shoulder, shaking him softly. “Mr. Tomlinson, we’ve landed.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles, wiping his eyes and throwing his hood over his head. He glances through the small window to his left, never recognizing the private airstrips at which they’re allowed to land. A sigh of relief escapes his lips at the sight of a dark, rainy sky. Los Angeles is too sunny. He grabs his bags, grateful he packed efficiently, and walks toward the cockpit, avoiding eye contact with everyone he passes, his body ready and poised to bolt out of the plane the moment the door opens.

The latch finally clicks, the door lowering so slowly Louis almost loses his composure and pries it open with his bare hands. He steps onto the stairs that have been attached to the plane, and the tears begin to fall before he’s even fully processed what’s happening.

“Hey, baby.”

The most beautiful voice, his favorite voice in the world, drifts toward him, pulling a desperate sob from his throat. He’s smiling, those green eyes Louis fell in love with so long ago shining so bright in the fading evening light.

Harry takes a step forward, and Louis runs. He runs down the stairs and into Harry’s arms, holding him as tightly as he can in the middle of the runway. Harry’s jumper is covered in snot and salt water in no time at all, but he never seems to mind, tangling his fingers in the short hair at the nape of Louis’ neck, pressing soft yet firm kisses to his cheek.

“Missed you,” Louis manages to get out, his throat sore around the words.

“I missed you, too,” he says gently, as if trying not to spook a frightened animal. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

Louis nods against his shoulder, pressing his nose to Harry’s neck to breathe him in, but he doesn’t relax his hold on his boy.

Harry chuckles, “Lou, baby. You have to let me go just for a bit. Just long enough to get home. Come on, love.”

Louis nods again, pulling back to offer his lips for a kiss. Harry can’t seem to stop smiling, his teeth catching on Louis’ lips. When Louis finally releases him, Harry walks to the stairs and takes the bags Louis dropped in his rush, hauling the biggest duffel over his shoulder as he returns to Louis’ side.

Someone shouts at them from the plane, and they'll probably be scolded at their next meeting for ignoring it, but Louis couldn't care less. Now or then. Because all he wants, all he needs, right now, is to go home with the love of his life.

Harry drives them home, and Louis doesn’t take his eyes off of him the entire time. Neither of them speak, both content simply with the other’s presence after spending so long apart. At every traffic light, every stop sign, Harry looks over and catches Louis’ gaze, smiling at him sweetly, his palm never leaving Louis’ thigh.

It’s quiet and peaceful and lovely. It’s the opposite of the hell of the past week, and everything he’s missed.

Harry parks the car in their driveway and jogs around the front of it to Louis’ door. A smile creeps onto Louis’ lips despite his exhaustion as Harry opens the door in a grand, dramatic gesture. “Welcome home, baby.”

Louis unbuckles his seatbelt and steps down from the vehicle, taking Harry’s hand for balance. “Cliff here?”

Harry giggles, the sweet sound piercing Louis’ heart with a joyful ache. “Well, yeah. Where else would our goofy pup be?”

Louis smiles, shrugging tiredly. “Dunno.” He leans against Harry’s solid frame, letting his ever-present warmth soak into him through their clothes.

His balance is suddenly thrown off, his feet leaving the ground, as Harry lifts him without warning, carrying him like a child. Louis giggles brightly, reaching up to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck as he brings him inside, abandoning his bags in the car.

Clifford jumps off of the sofa, racing toward them, whining hysterically, standing up on his hind legs to paw at Louis as he clings to Harry through a fit of laughter. Harry lets him down to give their dog some affection, running his fingers through his silky fur and teasing behind his floppy ears as his tail wags furiously behind him.

Harry slips closer, pressing himself against Louis’ back as he lets Clifford lick at him, hanging onto him as he reaches for his face. Harry snakes his hands around Louis’ hips, nosing at the sensitive space behind his ear. “He missed you.”

Louis lets Clifford return to the sofa and turns in Harry’s arms, feeling his hands connect at the dip of his spine. He rests his hands on Harry’s face, smiling as he watches a matching smile grow on his lips. “And you?”

“I missed you more.”

And Louis really thought he was done crying, but hot tears gather in his eyes, stinging until he blinks and they drop.

“Babe, why didn't you tell me?” Harry asks quietly.

“Tell you what?” Louis sighs, knowing exactly what he's asking.

“It was bad this time, wasn't it?”

“It's always bad, Harry.”

Harry’s thumbs press into the skin of his back, his lips finding Louis’ lazily. “I know.”

“I can't do it anymore, Haz,” he sobs, his body shaking against Harry. “I can't keep doing this.”

Harry holds him tight, whispers in his ear all the things he loves about him, about them, their life together. When Louis regains his ability to hold himself up, Harry loosens his grip and steps away, pulling Louis through their living room and toward the hallway.

“Let's take a shower. Wash all that L.A. filth off, yeah?”

Louis nods and lets Harry guide him to the bathroom, watches him turn the knob inside the shower and test the water with his hand, allows him to slowly strip off his clothes.

“I'm sorry,” Louis whimpers, the words pushed from his throat desperately as Harry removes his own clothes.

Harry’s brow furrows, and his lips purse together in confusion. “Why’re you sorry?”

“I know it's hard for you, too,” Louis says, reaching for Harry’s hand and holding it against his bare chest, right above his beating heart. “I'm being selfish.”

Harry rubs his thumb over Louis’ wrist and kisses his lips urgently. “You are the most selfless person I know. It's why so many people love you. It's why I fell in love with you.”

Louis hiccups, the breath leaving his lungs messily as he attempts to make Harry smile again. “Thought it was me arse.”

Harry winks, brushing his nose over Louis’ in an Eskimo kiss. “This beautiful bum,” he says, reaching around to pinch his cheek, “definitely didn't hurt your chances.”

Louis giggles against his lips, can't help it when Harry holds him like this, is silly with him just like they always were when all of this first started.

Harry keeps talking, and Louis knows what he’s doing, is always grateful when Harry does anything just to keep the smile on his face. “I could write down a million reasons why I love you, and just when I thought I was done, I’d think of a million more.”

It works. Louis smiles against his left cheek, pressing a kiss to his deeper dimple. “I love you, too.”

“We’ll be alright.”

Louis nods, pushing on Harry’s shoulders and slipping past him to walk to the shower, swinging his hips a little more than is strictly necessary. He looks over his shoulder in mock innocence, delighted to find Harry’s eyes glued to his backside. He snorts and pulls open the glass shower door, stepping inside. He only has to wait for a second before Harry is shutting the door behind himself, crowding him up against the wall, kissing him passionately.

Louis’ lips part to allow Harry’s tongue inside, running over his teeth, exploring the roof of his mouth. Panting heavily against each other’s lips, the steam of the hot water making it hard to breathe, Harry bends down, grabbing Louis’ thigh and bringing it up to rest on his hip. Louis takes the hint, pulling himself up the rest of the way, arms tight around Harry’s neck.

“So beautiful,” Harry moans, nipping at Louis’ jaw, his ear, the wet expanse of his throat.

Moving together under the spray of warm water, Louis couldn’t help the gasp he breathes into Harry’s ear even if he wanted to. He feels his cock rapidly hardening against Harry’s stomach as his pulse beats wildly under Harry’s hungry lips.

“Don’t tease,” Louis begs quietly, holding on for dear life, his back still pressed against the slippery shower wall. “Not tonight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry murmurs, his breath like fire against Louis’ cheek as he moves to his lips for another urgent kiss. “What do you want?”

“Don’t care,” Louis pants, his mind fuzzy with the friction between their bodies, Harry’s eyes on him, the steam sticking to their skin. “Just need you.”

“‘M right here, baby,” Harry says, pushing him harder against the tiles and moving a hand to his cheek, holding him there like what he’s saying is important and he needs to know Louis hears every word. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Fresh tears well in Louis’ eyes, falling down his cheeks to mix with the clean water washing over them. He hides his face in Harry’s neck, nipping at his skin just once and pressing his lips to the mark. Harry just holds him, the world around them gone, time standing still in this room.

The hand Harry had on Louis’ cheek moves to the back of his head, his long fingers slipping through Louis’ wet hair. “I have some ideas, but first we should actually shower.”

Louis relaxes his hold on his boy, sitting back in his grip for another kiss. “Then let me down, you giant animal,” he smiles, his teeth knocking against Harry’s as he breathes a quiet laugh against Louis’ lips, trembling now from his crying and the anticipation of what is to come.

He lets Louis’ legs drop, his feet meeting the warmed floor, and steps away to retrieve the bottle of shampoo sitting on the corner ledge. They take turns washing one another’s hair, Harry’s curls always a more challenging task. Soap is spread and rinsed off with gentle hands moving quickly with growing eagerness. They pull apart only long enough to wash their own faces, kissing under the stream for a few minutes more before they step out and dry off with soft, fluffy towels.

They brush their teeth side by side, Harry’s hand reaching over to pinch at Louis’ bum like he just can't help himself. Louis smiles, spit dripping from his open mouth, and when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, seeing the crinkles beside his eyes for the first time in a week, he knows everything will be okay. Harry can always do that, make him see clearly again.

Moving to their bedroom illuminated only by the moonlight shining in through the window, Harry opens a drawer and reaches in for nightclothes. Louis presses himself against Harry’s damp back, his skin warm and tingling under Louis’ touch. He smiles against his neck. “What are you doing?”

Harry closes the drawer and turns in his arms, his dimples deep on either side of his smile. “Habit.”

“Don't need ‘em tonight,” Louis whispers, pulling him down for a kiss, running his fingers through his wet hair.

“Thank God,” Harry breathes, walking them backward until Louis’ legs hit the bed. Harry guides him gently to the cool surface of the duvet, their lips connected for the journey. Louis pulls away to lie correctly on their bed, his head resting on his favorite pillow that Harry has obviously been sleeping with.

Harry crawls up his body, hovering over him. “‘M so glad you're back, baby,” he murmurs, kissing him once more on the mouth before moving down to his scruffy jaw, over his throat and to his collarbones, across his chest.

A whimper escapes Louis’ throat when a warm, wet tongue slides across his nipple. Harry suckles around the nub, gently grazing his teeth over his sensitive skin only to apologize unnecessarily with soft kisses a moment later.

They're both so hard, leaking against the other’s skin, and Louis can't stop shaking, can't help but sob quietly as Harry takes him apart with soft hands and softer lips. Harry’s hand dips down to find the hottest part of him, his palm sliding over the inside of his thighs, a finger rubbing over his entrance.

Louis gasps at the contact, his cock oozing precome and his heart fluttering in his chest. Harry holds himself up, taking that glorious hand away to reach over toward the nightstand. Louis tries to calm his breathing, to think past the static in his brain as Harry rummages through the drawer in the darkness and removes a small bottle of lube and a condom. He holds up the latter, the silent question written on his face, and Louis grins, taking it from his hands and tossing it back in the drawer.

“Wanna feel you tonight,” he says, dancing his fingers across Harry’s smooth chest. “All of you.”

Harry groans above him, leaning down to continue where he left off, moving quickly down Louis’ body. He peppers soft kisses down his abdomen, breathes hotly against his cock, his fingers scratching through the darker, coarser hair there as he returns to his inner thighs.

Louis sinks into the duvet, allowing his thoughts and worries to dissipate for now. He’s only pulled from his pleasure for a moment when Harry whispers against his tummy, “Can you turn over for me, love?”

Louis flips himself over as quickly as he can manage without knocking Harry out in the process, Harry’s big hands guiding his hips. Lying on his front, Louis takes in a shaky breath as those hands move to his arse. Harry spreads his cheeks, breathing over his skin, his hole rapidly clenching around nothing in his desperation.

He isn't surprised, Harry being predictable as always, but he still jolts under his touch when his tongue lazily runs across his puckered skin, dipping inside after only a bit of teasing. Harry nips gently at his bum each time he comes up for air, forcing desperate whimpers from Louis when he feels the sting of Harry’s bites.

Harry seems determined to make him come before they've even really gotten started, getting him as wet as possible, giving him just enough to feel mad with it. Louis throws an arm back, his hand reaching for his shoulder, and Harry’s mouth leaves his heat.

“Y’okay?” he slurs, dropping one more kiss to his bum before crawling over him, lying down against him, their bodies touching from Harry’s lips on Louis’ neck to their ankles intertwined at the foot of the bed.

Louis giggles into the pillow when Harry moves a hand to his side, trailing teasing fingers up and down his heated skin. Harry’s weight on him is so comforting, so healing. “More than okay. That’s the problem.”

“How's that?” Harry pushes, nosing behind his ear, grinning against the nape of his neck.

“Gonna make me come,” Louis slurs, shivering when Harry licks the shell of his ear, his breath hot and heavy.

“Sensitive tonight, aren't you?” he teases.

Louis snorts, “Well yeah, haven't come in a week.”

Harry stills above him for just a moment before he resumes his nuzzling. “Wish you would've told me it was so bad this time,” he says gently, his sex voice disappearing temporarily, the subtle sound of pain replacing it. “We don't talk enough.”

“We talk every day.”

“You know what I mean, Lou. I need to know how you're feeling. We should open up. Before it's all too much.”

Feeling a little defensive, for absolutely no reason at all other than his exhaustion, he retorts, “Nice lyrics.”

Harry fixes him with a strong gaze, a warning. “Don't.”

A beat, a breath. “‘M sorry,” Louis sighs.

“It’s okay,” Harry whispers, tries to kiss him quiet, planting his lips on any skin he can reach.

“I hate it,” he sobs, half broken from the pain, half from his desperation to have Harry’s mouth on him again.

“I know, baby,” Harry coos. “I know.”

Louis can't take it anymore. “Need you inside me, Haz,” he begs. “Baby, please.”

“We’re not finished with this conversation,” Harry says, his voice thick and deep once more, rumbling like thunder in the quiet room, “but you can come first.” And before Louis can argue, he’s back to where he was before, licking a broad stripe from his balls to the top of his arse. Louis cries out beneath him, his sweaty skin sticking to the duvet.

His lower body bucks back into Harry’s face, Harry’s hands gripping the creases between his hips and thighs, holding his arse up in the air. His thoughts are a mess, his mind caught between conflicting desires of holding back and begging for more, when he realizes through the fog that Harry isn’t going to stop at one tonight.

Harry’s tongue breaches him again, the sensation making a chill break out over his skin. Heat flicks up the length of his spine like a flame, his stomach muscles tensing rhythmically. He lets go, focusing only on the feeling of Harry’s hands now holding him open as his legs kick out from under him and he comes, wetness smearing on his tummy as he writhes against the bed.

Harry’s lips are back against his ear when he's finally had enough, his cock hard and leaking onto Louis' backside. “Taste so good, Lou,” he moans, kissing Louis’ neck until he turns over to offer his lips instead.

Louis sighs into his mouth, his body still in tremors from his first orgasm of the night. Harry’s kisses grow gentler, a smile lighting up his face when he opens his eyes to find Louis gazing at him mindlessly.

“Just gimme a minute,” Louis chuckles, joy aching so pleasurably in his heart when Harry wiggles his eyebrows like the dork Louis has been head-over-heels in love with for six years.

Harry gives him time to come back, exploring the sweaty skin of his neck, running his fingers through the sparse hair on his chest, smiling innocently as he kisses a nipple. Minutes pass, and he returns to Louis’ lips, just like he always has, just like he always will.

“Good?” he asks, the twinkle in his eye challenging the moonlight in it brightness.

Louis smiles fondly, nodding, anticipation running through his veins once more.

Harry dives in for another kiss before he pulls away, leaving Louis quite literally breathless, a quiet giggle leaving his lips as Harry tickles his fingers down his sides. He hears the snick of the lube bottle being opened and holds his breath as it drops to the bed beside him, Harry’s slicked fingers immediately moving to tease over his entrance.

He slips one finger past his rim, leaning over to press comforting kisses to his chest as he moves in and out of Louis’ body. He slowly adds another finger, scissoring them, stretching him out carefully.

Louis’ blood burns hot, his cock already hard again, jerking against his belly each time Harry ghosts over it with his other hand.

“Fuck,” Harry exhales, smoothing his hand over Louis’ stomach, down his side to his hip. “You're so tight, Lou.” Louis nods, coherent language impossible in his current state. Harry crooks his fingers up, searching for and immediately finding his prostate, and the breath leaves Louis’ lungs in a rush, his head dropping to the pillow below, thighs shaking around Harry’s arm. “There we go,” Harry murmurs, pressing insistently on that one spot Louis needs him the most.

Louis pushes back against Harry’s hand, his fingers delving deeper inside of him, and grabs for his thighs, his knees digging into the bed under Louis’ legs. He just needs to touch him, to hold onto him, needs a tangible reminder that he's really here.

“Want another?” Harry asks, his own desperation coating his words.

Louis whimpers out a barely-there “yes,” hazy lights flashing behind his eyelids as Harry adds a third finger, pressing into him so surely, experienced but always so gentle.

Harry alternates between slowly spreading his fingers apart and quickly jamming them into Louis’ prostate. Louis is unable to control the strange noise he emits when he opens his eyes to find Harry drenched in sweat, his gaze intense and unwavering.

“‘M ready,” Louis gasps, his back arching wickedly with one particularly good thrust. “Harry, please.”

Harry takes his time even after Louis’ pleading, prepping him as thoroughly as he always does, his brow furrowed with concentration. Finally, he relents, reaching again for the lube and pouring a fair amount into his palm. Louis watches as he wraps his hand around his cock, giving himself a few firm strokes to get himself wet.

Louis makes a decision while Harry is distracted and sits up, pushing on Harry’s shoulders until he lands on his back with a soft grunt. He straddles Harry’s hips and lowers himself, grinding against him, his own cock slapping back against his tummy with his movement.

Harry looks so cute when he’s caught off guard, his emerald eyes wide and concerned, eyebrows raised before they lower again when he laughs quietly. His smile shines in the dark room, and Louis stares at his full lips hungrily as Harry reaches behind himself to prop up a few pillows.

Sitting up against the small mound he’s made, he spreads his legs just a bit, Louis’ widening on either side of them. Harry reaches up and places both hands in Louis’ wild hair at the same time that Louis leans forward, their lips meeting for a wet kiss.

“You don't know how bad I needed this,” Harry mumbles against his mouth, smoothing a hand down his neck, shivers following his soft touch.

They both know that isn't true. Harry knows Louis understands completely. Louis has to tease him just a little. “Yeah?” he sighs, pressing their bodies closer, heat welding them together. “Missed this arse, baby? Touched yourself thinking of me, crying into your pillow ‘cause it could never be enough without me there?”

Harry whines below him, his eyes now so dark, Louis can barely see them. “Love it ‘cause you know it’s all for you?” he urges, trying to wind up his boy as much as possible. He notices a strange, but not entirely unfamiliar feeling settle in his chest, and he realizes why he’s doing this. It may have started unconsciously, but now he’s got a goal in mind. And it won't take much more for Harry to give him what he wants. “Know you're the only one who can fuck me like I need it? Make me come over and over again? Always wanna be the one who makes me scream, huh, baby?”

Harry’s hand sneaks around his back and before Louis can prepare himself, he's paralyzed by a sharp stinging pain on his arse cheek. He falls forward into Harry’s chest, a loud moan dripping from his lips onto Harry’s damp skin as his boy reads his mind and gives him what he needs before he ever has to ask.

Harry soothes the sting with his palm, rubbing over his bum gently. And then his hand is gone for only a moment before it’s back, colliding with Louis’ sensitive skin once again. Louis squeaks, unable to stop his squirming over Harry’s cock, his own leaking steadily on both of them.

“Just needed a swat, didn't you, love? A little spanking?” Harry says, white hot desire dripping from his voice. “You’ll be my good boy now, yeah? Ride my cock, let me come inside you, baby?”

Louis sobs against his shoulder, nodding his head, so thankful to let Harry take control like this. “Yeah, please. Need it, too, Harry. Need you.”

“Alright, baby,” Harry coos, “it’s okay.” He keeps his hand on Louis’ hip, reaching behind him with his other to grip his cock. “That’s it, love, just sit up a little.” Louis rises up onto his knees, waiting for the sensation of Harry’s head pressed firmly against his opening before lowering himself onto Harry’s cock, sliding down slowly until he’s completely filled, his arse flush against Harry’s hips.

Harry groans against Louis’ neck, his tongue flicking out to catch a drop of sweat racing down his throat. “So good, Lou,” he murmurs, guiding his hips as he bounces, thrusting up into him each time he comes down.

The fog in Louis’ brain prevents him from providing much more than the continuous moans and smaller whimpers into Harry’s ear, his fingers tangled in his curly hair. He gathers all of his remaining resolve, sitting back in search of a better angle. Harry sinks deeper into him, the tip of his cock jamming into his prostate on the first thrust and nearly every one after that.

Louis throws his head back, eyes shut tight, mouth open wide as he cries out, trying to ride this out for as long as he can, his orgasm already coiling tightly in his belly, heat surging through his veins so quickly he feels dizzy with it. Harry’s strong hands move to his arse, massaging his skin, fingers a little more gentle as they move over his sore cheek to the place they’re connected.

Harry is panting against his skin like he can't get enough oxygen, whispering sweet nothings every time he catches his breath, hands touching every part of Louis he can reach. “So close,” he slurs, a low exclamation bursting from his lungs when Louis sits down hard, swiveling his hips. “Fuck, baby, so perfect,” he continues, “my perfect boy.”

And that's all it takes for Louis to come apart, spurting all over himself, Harry’s abdomen moving against him, spreading his sticky mess as he thrusts up into Louis with abandon, chasing his own release. Louis clenches around him, lungs burning with the need to breathe, pleasure clouding his thoughts as he holds onto his high as tightly as he can.

After a minute or so of heavenly oversensitivity, Harry’s fingernails claw into Louis’ back as he spills inside of him, his arse off the bed as he holds both of them up, keeping himself as deep as possible as he presses the back of his head into his pillow. Louis maneuvers himself to lean forward, crashing his lips into Harry’s to swallow the sounds pouring from his sweet, dirty mouth.

Harry’s hips lower, and Louis follows his movements, their bodies still connected. Not quite ready to let him go, Louis stays where he is, pressed against Harry’s sweat-soaked chest. Harry’s hand comes up to Louis’ cheek, his other resting against Harry’s nipple, his fingers sliding further to slip through the fringe sticking to Louis’ forehead.

Neither of them say a word, nothing needed in this moment but the feel of the other’s touch, their breathing returning to normal at a shared rhythm. When Harry begins to squirm under him, his cock soft and spent, Louis rises up on his sore legs and lets him slip out. He moves toward him, seeking another kiss, and Harry complies happily, their lips sliding together, tongues dancing lazily.

Harry rolls them over, holding himself up over Louis’ body so as not to crush him in their orgasmic haze. He climbs off of the bed and walks toward the door, and Louis watches him go peacefully, knowing he'll only be gone for a moment.

Harry comes back with a wet flannel, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching over to wipe through the mess Louis left on his stomach, the mess Harry left between his thighs. Content with his cleaning, he tosses the dirtied cloth in the laundry basket in the corner of the room and grabs the lube, tossing it back into the nightstand drawer.

Lying down beside Louis, pulling the bedsheets up to their shoulders, Harry smiles, his fingers slipping over Louis’ cheek as they face another in the quiet. Louis’ skin warms under his touch, his heart beating solid and strong against Harry’s chest.

“I'm okay,” Louis murmurs, reaching up to slide his fingers between Harry’s, pulling their hands down so he can press a kiss to his lips.

They kiss lazily, Harry’s mouth opening when Louis runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. They separate, content to gaze at one another, their legs tangled beneath the sheets.

Harry’s features soften, his smile dissolved but the light still shining in his eyes. “You're allowed to feel broken, Lou,” he whispers.

Louis’ throat swells, and a thought flashes in his mind that he shouldn't cry again, but he waves it away, knowing Harry understands. Moisture clouds his vision, and Harry’s hand comes up to wipe the tears from his cheek.

Harry continues, “You have to talk to me. We’re in this together.” Louis nods silently, his nose catching on Harry’s. “You and me.”

Louis wraps his arm around him, sliding his other against the bed under Harry’s body until he’s hugging him properly. Harry leans forward, resting his chest atop Louis’, bringing a hand up to brush the fringe from his forehead. “Always,” Louis agrees.

He looks at Harry dazedly, happily soaking in all of his boy’s warmth. And then Harry begins to hum, a beautiful melody, both soft and strong. One Louis has never heard from him before tonight.

He sings quietly, his voice breaking in a half-whisper. “Stop your crying, baby, it'll be alright.”

A watery smile creeps onto Louis’ lips despite everything. Because despite every bad thing, every hard, painful, heartbreaking thing, he’s got Harry. And nothing seems so bad when he's being held by this beautiful, kind, silly man. Nothing seems quite as overwhelming when those green eyes are shining with love, Harry’s gaze on nothing but Louis as he sings gently, putting him back together again.

Harry pauses, and Louis’ heart skips a beat because he knows that look. His eyebrows are drawn down, a slight crinkle on his forehead, his lips between his teeth. He’s writing a song. Right here, right now, in their bed, holding the entire universe together.

He smiles, nuzzling against Louis’ scruff, pulling a giggle from him. He kisses him once more, and when he pulls away, he doesn't go far. He hovers over him, breathing his words onto Louis’ lips, letting them drop down his throat, filling him to the brim. “They told me that the end is near. We gotta get away from here.”

“S beautiful, Haz,” Louis says after a moment, reaching up to run his fingers through Harry’s hair, getting distracted by a stubborn curl standing straight up in the air.

“You're beautiful,” Harry murmurs with a kiss.

“Not sure they'll let you use that, babe. It's a little obvious, innit?”

“Yeah, but it's not the worst and you know it,” he says, his smile wicked and delicious.

“True,” Louis chuckles, his breathing cut off once again by Harry’s insistent lips.

“I love you,” Harry whispers with one last kiss. He lets his body fall to the bed, turning over and shifting backward, soft little whines flowing through the cool, quiet air until Louis’ hushed him, wrapping his arm around his torso. He locks their hands together against Harry’s chest, Louis’ heart pressed firmly against Harry’s bare back.

“I love you, too,” Louis sighs, pulling him closer, his nose hidden in Harry’s hair as he drifts into a dream. The two of them, running through a field of wildflowers, smiles shining bright in the sunlight, laughter floating in the air like a bird’s song.

And Louis knows Harry is right. Believes every word Harry whispered past his lips tonight, every single reassurance offered in the form of gentle touches, soft kisses, loving glances.

It'll be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you liked this little story, please reblog my [Tumblr post](http://larryandgaystuff.tumblr.com/post/167012568229/just-stop-your-crying-its-a-sign-of-the-times)!
> 
> Every lovely writer who participated in this challenge is absolutely wonderful, so please be kind and leave them kudos and comments!


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